“Into it? No, uh, not really. I only did it the once so far. I’m just supposed to be able to see my stats or something and I can’t get it to work. That’s all.” Jessica took the last sip of her beer and met Claire’s eyes.
Claire took Jessica’s arm and looked at her with an expression much too serious for a Friday night at Lindy’s. “Hon, it’s ok if you are excited to do this running thing. I haven’t seen you show much interest in anything since, well, you know. This could be a good thing.” Claire turned on Jessica’s phone and started tapping at the screen with one of her hot pink nails.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. I really suck at it so far.”
Howie arrived at the end of the bar and placed his large, worn hands on the bar top. “Well, ladies, what’ll it be?”
“Two more of the same, Howie my dear,” Claire said, batting her eyes with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Now don’t choo’ be callin’ me that, young lady. I am Mr. Howie to you.”
Claire laughed. “My apologies, Mr. Howie.”
Howie disappeared and returned a moment later with two pints, filled to the brim. A small stream of foam oozed down the side of the glass he placed in front of Jessica. “How are ya doin’, darlin’? I haven’t seen you ‘round these parts as much as usual. I know thing’s been tough for you and your ma lately.”
Jessica looked up from her beer, where she had been watching the foam as it made its slow descent to the smooth wood of the bar below. She forced a small smile, and tugged at a piece of hair. “I’m hanging in there, I guess. Just doing the usual. Plus, I got this one here always looking out for me,” she said as she lightly elbowed Claire in the ribs.
Howie leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Kind of annoying, ain’t she?” he asked, winking at Jessica.
“God, she really is, isn’t she?” Jessica groaned. Howie chuckled and Jessica joined him.
Claire’s mouth dropped open. “Hey now you two! Not nice! Not nice at all! I am a delight to be around!”
Jessica and Howie laughed harder. He gave Claire a wink and headed back down the bar toward a group of college-age men impatiently waving a twenty in the air.
Claire turned back to Jessica. “You know, with that kind of attitude I don’t know if you deserve my expertise when it comes to phone apps.”
“Oh come on, Claire. You know I love you.” Jessica took a sip from her beer.
“Well, I suppose I will still help you then,” Claire said. She returned her attention to Jessica’s phone, and after a moment, started to giggle.
Jessica looked up, confused, and then heard Britney Spears coming from her QuikFit, confessing that her loneliness was killing her. “Claire, what the—”
“Jesus Christ, Claire, turn that pop shit off!” Howie hollered across the bar.
Claire cackled. Jessica fumbled with the QuikFit, trying to figure out how to turn the speaker off. She felt her face grow warm and her cheeks begin to burn. Finally, Claire relented, hit a few buttons on Jessica’s phone, and Britney Spears disappeared.
“God, Claire. You couldn’t find anything better to play?”
“It was either that or N’Sync.”
“How about just making the app work?” Jessica asked. The heat in her cheeks faded. How could such a loud sound come out of such a tiny speaker?
Claire spent another moment pushing buttons on Jessica’s phone, then handed it back. “Ok, so you see that icon there? That’s your QuikFit app.”
Jessica clicked on the icon for the QuikFit application and followed Claire’s instructions to open her logged activities. Claire continued, “So then you go to cardio, then running, and then you should have your runs listed in chronological order. See there, that’s the one from today.”
Jessica clicked on her most recent—and only—listed activity. The screen opened up to a summary of her run on Wasp Canyon Trail. The date and time were at the top, followed by her distance covered, average speed, average heart rate, and elevation change. She scrolled through and saw that she could click on any of the items and they would get further broken down into graphs and charts that showed how much time she spent at different speeds and how much her heart rate fluctuated. Fascinated, Jessica went through the various components of her run, oblivious to Claire who was leaning over her shoulder and also observing her stats.
“Wow,” Claire interrupted, “you really suck at this.”
Startled, Jessica dropped the phone on the bar and looked up at Claire. A grin crept across her face, and both girls started to laugh.
Chapter 7
The Wasp Canyon parking lot was deserted once again when Jessica arrived the following morning. She wondered if maybe the time of day had something to do with the lack of hikers. Or perhaps it was the time of year.
Tucson was a bustling town in the winter months. The ample sunshine and average highs in the seventies made it a prime destination for people from all over the country to escape the snow and icy temperatures back home. And for those with deep enough pockets, it was a great place for a second home so they could avoid the harsh winter months in their hometowns all together.
The summers in Tucson were a different story. As May gave way to June all the winter travelers and snowbirds packed up their houses and condos and headed back east, not returning until the temperatures dropped back out of the triple-digits. From June through September Tucson was a much quieter, calmer town. And a much hotter town. Temperatures often soared well over one hundred degrees, not cooling to the nineties until late in the evening. Outdoor activities were often forgotten, locals only venturing outside to go to work or run errands. Prime parking spots were selected by shade, not by distance from the storefront. And indoor activities like going to the movies and shopping at the mall were considered favorite pastimes.
The only reprieve from the scorching summer heat was the long-awaited monsoon season. Every July and August the weather patterns across the Pacific shifted, causing moisture to come up from the south and provide southern Arizona with more than half its annual rainfall in the course of two months. Afternoon skies filled with dark cumulus clouds and the stifling heat mixed with the growing humidity made the air feel thick like syrup—like something that would stick to the roof of your mouth if you drank it.
And then the thunder would come, deep rumbles that spread across the desert and sounded like the ominous growls of an angry predator. The sky would begin to flash, bolts of lightning emanating from deep within the clouds and striking the ground somewhere off in the distance. You could feel the electricity building in the air. The wind would sweep in, bringing the smell of moisture and wet desert soil to your nose. And all at once the sky would open up and a deluge of rain would beat down in torrents so heavy you couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of you. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and wind shook the trees hard enough for branches to break off. And suddenly the violence would stop as quickly as it had begun. The sky would close back up, taking its lightning and thunder with it. A few final rumbles would travel across the rain-soaked desert, like a beast satisfied with a kill it had just made. And then it was over.
Jessica never understood why the snowbirds and winter visitors would leave during the summer and miss the show—a breathtaking show that used to happen almost daily. However, over the years, the storms had become less and less frequent. Got global warming to thank for that, Jessica thought. These days you were lucky to get a few good storms a year.
This summer was supposed to be different, though. According to the news, a lingering El Niño was expected this year, bringing tropical storms to the eastern Pacific and more moisture up to Arizona. Increased rainfall was forecasted for all of the southwest this summer, especially in southern Arizona.
Jessica glanced at the sky, an expanse of blue with not one cloud to blemish it. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case for long. With it being early June, it would still be a month before monsoon moisture would arrive, and that would only be the case if it arrived on time. Nature could be fickle th
at way.
June in Tucson was hot, dry, and unforgiving. Plants desperately clung to life, hoping to survive until the rains came. Animals came down from the mountains and could sometimes be seen in backyards drinking from swimming pools. And temperatures over 110 were not uncommon. And of course this is when Dr. Wyatt suggests I take up outdoor exercise, Jessica thought. Nothing like June in Tucson to take in the desert scenery. And forget about your dead dad. I guess if I pass out from heatstroke I will forget, even if it is only for a little while.
Jessica suspected that’s why the Wasp Canyon parking lot was empty again—anyone who lives here isn’t dumb enough to go outside in June. And those that are dumb enough already went back east for the summer.
Another possibility was because it was very early in the day. Jessica decided to do her runs right after sunrise, when the day was coolest. That way she could get it over with and not have to worry about it for the rest of the day. Her work schedule also supported this decision. Jessica was a server at a local steakhouse, which meant evening shifts and free mornings. So here she was, in a deserted parking lot at 6:35 in the morning. The breathtaking oranges and pinks of the sunrise had already faded, and Jessica could feel the day’s heat starting to fill the air. Better get this done. Maybe if I finish quick, I will have time for a nap before work.
Chapter 8
Getting her QuikFit going was easier this time, only taking Jessica a brief moment to pull up and begin her running program. The running itself, however, was just as difficult as it was the first time. Jessica’s throat narrowed, the muscles in her legs quivered in protest, and the blood pounded in her ears. There was also one new—and rather unpleasant—sensation that she didn’t have during her first run: nausea. A sickening weight began sloshing around in her stomach at 0.3 miles and was now threatening to rise up into her throat. Beers—it was the freaking beers. I knew I shouldn’t have let Claire convince me to get a third last night.
Jessica pushed on despite the growing need to calm her stomach. She could hear her labored breathing, the scraping of her sneakers on the ground, and the grumbling from within. Point six. Gotta make it to 0.6 miles. Gotta do a little bit better than last time.
In the end, her stomach was stronger than her perseverance, and at 0.5 miles Jessica bent over at the edge of the trail and vomited her fried egg and strawberries that she had had for breakfast. There was also a sour, hoppy aftertaste that could not be mistaken for anything other than IPA. She stared at the bleached soil between her feet. In the center was a liquidy blob of yellow, red, and brown—not liquid, not solid, but some mashed up combination of the two. Jessica spat out as much of the hoppy bile as she could and swore to herself to never again drink beers the night before she went running.
Jessica grabbed the tube of her CamelBak and took a long swallow of water. The burn of stomach acid in her throat eased off, but not completely. The CamelBak had been her father’s—worn out from frequent use, but still functional. Andrea had found it in her closet and insisted Jessica use it on her runs, listing off the many dangers of dehydration and heat stroke. Jessica took it begrudgingly, but was now relieved she had it. She took a few more drinks of water and let the tube fall to her side.
Discouraged by her inability to reach her goal, Jessica meandered along the trail and allowed herself to look at some of the cacti and succulents along the way. Organ pipe cactus, barrel cactus, century plant, saguaro, prickly pear, aloe vera, ocotillo, another saguaro. Jessica kicked at the dirt when she felt her eyes start to burn with the threat of oncoming tears. This is stupid. This running thing is stupid. I’m telling Dr. Wyatt I tried it and it isn’t going to work. At least I tried though. She can’t get on me as long as I tried.
Jessica saw the crop of jumping cholla come into view. Her mile marker. In the distance she could see the mountains coming together, leaving a narrow opening that was Wasp Canyon. And beyond that, who knows? More Tucson? Mexico? The magical land of Narnia?
She wiped at her eyes and stopped just short of the jumping chollas, making sure to stand on the opposite side of the trail. The slow but steady whisper of wind echoed in the canyon beyond. I wonder if there really are wasps in there, she thought. Who would name it Wasp Canyon if there weren’t any wasps? She took a few steps forward, moving past the chollas, transfixed on the canyon in the distance. I wonder what else might be in there. Gila monsters? Bobcats? God, I’d love to see a bobcat. Or maybe a gray fox.
Jessica kept walking along the trail, her QuikFit forgotten. Her feet scuffed along the ground, her ankles shifting to accommodate the rocks embedded in the desert floor. She grunted with effort as she began to ascend a rise in the trail, the rocks requiring her to pay close attention to her footing. This will be a pain in the ass to run up and down if I ever get to that, she thought.
When she reached the top of the rise she was able to see the trail’s progress as it weaved through the rocks and cacti, eventually disappearing inside the canyon. The walls of the canyon were sheer cliffs with little plant life except for a few stubborn shrubs. Quite a few trees were growing around the entrance, their branches obstructing her view of the path beyond.
Jessica’s stomach made an unhappy grumble. Not today I guess, she thought as she turned around. She glanced down at her QuikFit and realized she had hiked an additional mile past the chollas. Where she was standing at the top of the rise was 2.1 miles from the parking lot. So this makes mile marker number two. The top of the hill is two miles in. Jessica smiled, realizing that she was standing on top of the rise she had seen on the trail map. Wasp Hill—I’m standing on top of Wasp Hill.
She made her descent down Wasp Hill, being careful to find the right footing on the juts of rock sticking out of the caliche. Jessica doubted these stones had moved in decades, if not centuries.
The heat was becoming much more noticeable as she worked her way back toward the parking lot. Her stomach, although still not pleased with her, had at least calmed itself now that it was empty. The chollas came and went. Her QuikFit diligently counted her progress, reaching 4.2 miles as she arrived at the parking lot. Jessica stepped up onto the asphalt and turned to look at the trail once more. So no wasps on Wasp Hill, huh? Well, maybe they are inside the canyon instead. Maybe what I can hear out there isn’t wind coming from the canyon at all—maybe it is thousands and thousands of wasps.
Jessica got into her car and pulled out of the small parking lot. Whatever was in that canyon, she was going to find out.
Chapter 9
Early summer can be a miserable time in southern Arizona. It’s hot, it’s monotonous, it’s boring. No one wants to go outside to sweat and swelter in the heat. So they stay locked inside, watching Netflix and praying that the air conditioner doesn’t break. A few brave souls will venture out in the early morning hours—trying to get some time outdoors before the heat really sets in—but mostly people stay locked up inside and hope the monsoons will arrive early.
Jessica was also hoping for the monsoons to be early and plentiful. She kept hearing promises from the nightly weather reports to expect a real doozy of a monsoon season, but so far the skies remained empty and the blistering temperatures unyielding. Luckily, the heat had not managed to hinder Jessica’s progress with running, though. She found that as long as she got out there early enough, she was usually getting in her car to return home before the heat got a really strong hold on the day. And as long as she stayed away from the beer, she was able to avoid another projectile breakfast situation.
Over the past few weeks Jessica’s endurance had improved. She was now able to make it one mile without stopping, although she still felt like she might explode or collapse once she made it to the jumping chollas. She continued to push herself further and further, with the unwavering goal to get inside Wasp Canyon driving her on. Unfortunately, her endurance still wasn’t enough to carry her to the canyon’s mouth. Jessica could now run/walk for three miles without darkness entering the corners of her vision and her throat completely cl
osing up, but she still had the return trip to think about. Three miles in meant three miles out. And the entrance to the canyon, which she estimated to be around the four mile mark, meant eight miles round trip. And that didn’t even get her inside the canyon.
Jessica decided she would try to improve her endurance for the first month, running for longer periods and with shorter rest breaks. Once she was able to run a reasonable distance without stopping—or passing out—she could then hopefully start venturing further. Her current mile marker was a monstrously tall crested saguaro which stood approximately three miles into the trail. The top of the saguaro had a large fanned headdress, which earned it its name and set it apart from other saguaros. This type of saguaro wasn’t rare, but it was not nearly as plentiful as the typical saguaros of the Sonoran Desert.
Jessica’s current plan of attack was to run to the jumping cholla, walk to the top of Wasp Hill, and then run to the crested saguaro. Three miles in. At that point her body would begin to protest, first in the lungs, then in her legs, and eventually in her head. She would collapse at the saguaro, hands on knees and head down, waiting for the swimmy feeling inside her skull to pass. After staring longingly at the canyon for a moment—still a mile out of reach—she would turn around and start heading back the way she had come.
Once in the car, Jessica would snatch her phone out of the glove compartment, upload her latest run onto her QuikFit app, and analyze her progress. Ok, heart rate is doing a little bit better. Speed is about the same, definitely slower on the second leg of the run than the first. And I really need to pick up my pace during the walking portions—I’m practically going on an evening stroll during those parts.
Jessica placed the phone on the passenger seat and started her car. Still no other cars in the parking lot, and still no clouds in the sky. Tomorrow was July 1st. Come on monsoons. Where the hell are you?
Wasp Canyon Page 4
